Dead Man's Arms
by SadieQuinn
Summary: During the 20th anniversary celebrations, Joss mentioned that Buffy and Spike were a good long-term relationship, but Buffy and Angel were the grandest love story he'd ever tell. This story tries to do that idea justice and ultimately deliver Buffy and Angel the forever I think they deserve. Definitely B/A but Spike friendly with a few chapters that mention B/S. Please read!
1. Lover's Walk

**Title:** Dead Man's Arms

 **A/N:** During the BtVS 20th anniversary celebrations, Joss mentioned that Buffy and Spike were a good long-term relationship, but Buffy and Angel were the grandest love story he'd ever tell. I also found that as a diehard Buffy and Angel shipper I didn't completely hate the Buffy and Spike pairing as I think it served a positive purpose to let Buffy safely fall into the darkness that was season 6 without becoming romantic or fluffy. So this story explores the idea of Buffy finding a healthy way to explore a relationship with Spike before ultimately ending up with her Angel, just as Joss intended. This story sticks closely to BtVS canon and the first three chapters are key moments pulled directly from the tv series before moving off into the true plot of the story. For B/A shippers concerned that there is going to be a lot of Spuffy in this fic don't worry as it will be kept to a minimum and ultimately serve an important purpose. Definitely a Spike friendly fic but completely B/A where it counts. You've been warned! Also just so you know this is my first ever attempt at writing fan fic so be kind...

 **PLEASE NOTE** that the dialogue in this chapter is taken directly from the episode Lovers Walk and only the narrative is my words!

 **Spoilers:** It's been 20 years since Buffy first aired. Do we really need a spoiler alert? This whole fic is full of spoilers for the entire series, particularly seasons 3 to 7.

 **Disclaimer:** It all belongs to Joss et al!

* * *

 **S03E08 – Lovers Walk**

"…Spike can get the rats eyes." she announced grimly, moving further into the Magic Box to peruse the stock on the shelves.

The shop was dark and an unnatural stillness permeated the air. Angel's senses were assaulted by both the stench of death – thanks to Spike's brilliant handiwork when he'd killed the owner - and the earthy incense that was so often burned in the space.

He was standing a little apart from Buffy and Spike, with his back to them both. Searching for the ingredients Buffy had prattled off Willow's list and assigned to him moments ago, but also deeply lost in thought.

The evening had started off trying at best and quickly slipped into mercilessly infuriating. Angel just wanted to rescue the others and be done with it. He didn't need to hear any more pathetic snivelling from Spike, and he certainly didn't want Buffy subjected to it.

"I used to bring her rats with the morning paper." Spike's voice broke him from his silent reverie.

The 'her' in question was of course Drusilla, the wild eyed and clinically insane vampire Angel had so horrifically created in the name of sport. It was sad, really, that Spike had become so caught up in his love for Drusilla that he had reduced himself to telling Angel all about it. In a sick way, it was kind of like running back to your girlfriend's daddy after she gave you the old relationship heave-ho. Angel almost shuddered at the thought and opened his mouth to respond, but before he could formulate any words Buffy beat him to it.

"Great." she sighed. "More moping. That's going to get her back."

Angel could hear the fast paced rhythmic thumping of Buffy's heart and feel the annoyance radiating from her body in consistent waves. If at all possible, his beloved had even less tolerance for Spike than he did. Angel clenched his fists, but lets his arms hang loosely by his sides. He too wanted nothing more than to be permanently rid of the menace, but first they needed to safety locate Buffy's friends. He found himself momentarily wondering if they were his friends too. No, definitely Buffy's friends.

"The spell is gonna get her back." Spike snapped at her.

Finally Angel opened his mouth to deflect Spike's attention away from Buffy before she did something she would live to regret.

"Lot of trouble for somebody who doesn't even care about you." he said, choosing his words carefully so as to be deliberately provocative.

"Shut your gob!" Spike snapped, his voice rising in both pitch and volume as he took the bait, hook line and sinker.

"She really is just kind of fickle." Angel shrugged a little.

The expression on his face skated the peripheral of what could easily be construed as Angelus-esque in nature; a deliberate ploy to draw Spike's mind back to their younger days and remind him of the times Angelus had bedded Drusilla merely to toy with Spike's lingering mortal sensitivities. It worked like a charm and Spike completely lost his cool.

"Shut up!" he shouted, his angry voice echoing off the shop's ownerless inventory of herbs and magical trinkets.

Before Angel could throw another barb his way, Spike approached with haphazardly directed fury and lashed out with a sloppy right hook. It connected solidly with Angel's face, though the power behind the punch wasn't strong enough to cause any lasting pain or damage. He quickly moved to block and counter a second much stronger attack, before Buffy intervened and physically dragged Spike away.

It made Angel burn with unspoken shame and fury that Buffy thought she needed to rescue him, especially from a vampire as weak and pathetic as Spike currently was. At the same time, it warmed his cold dead heart that she cared enough to try and protect him. It reminded him of his unending love for her. A love that he fought daily to suppress.

"What do you know? It's your fault, the both of you! She belongs with me." Spike said, his voice now breaking with anguish. "I'm nothing without her."

The words reverberated in the churn of Angel's dark and brooding mind. _I'm nothing without her._ The same thing could be said for him when it came to Buffy. He'd begrudgingly survived over a hundred years in a hell dimension – a place she'd personally sent him to – and yet he still felt like the hollow shell of a man without her by his side. He drew his strength from her, his ambition to do good in the world, his desire to hold his head high and go on living despite all his misdeeds and the misfortunes he'd bestowed upon both himself and others. She treated him like her equal, and his desire for her burned deeply within his soul.

"That I'll have to agree with. You're pathetic, you know that?" Buffy's voice was strong and jarring in stark contrast to Spikes. "You're not even a loser anymore, you're a shell of a loser."

Angel subtly shook his head to try and quiet his thoughts and return to the present moment. More than anything he needed to stay alert and protect Buffy. To help her find her friends. To get rid of Spike. To demonstrate his true and pure love for her. No, scratch that last one.

They were still trying for the friends thing, and he'd infinitely rather her as a friend than nothing at all. He was more than willing to hungrily consume the table scraps of a relationship she tossed his way. He was pathetic in his need for her, but strengthened by his love for her. A strange juxtaposition.

Before Spike had so unfortunately reappeared in Sunnydale, he'd been building up the courage to ask Buffy an important question. Ask her once and for all if she still loved him. If she was still his girl. He was deeply terrified that the answer would be no, but he felt the need to ask it regardless. And he would get right back to building up that courage as soon as they got rid of Spike.

"Yeah. You're one to talk." Spike scoffed at Buffy, before turning away to continue his hunt for the ingredients he needed.

Just as Angel had baited Spike moments ago, he knew instantly that Spike was now returning the favor. He also knew that Buffy would waste no time falling for his line. Angel knew them both so well; knew they were just as susceptible to stirring as each other. Buffy had never been one to let a sleeping dog lie, especially not when it addressed her directly.

"Meaning?" Buffy asked immediately, confirming Angel's silent assessment.

Spike turned to face them both again. "The last time I looked in on you two, you were fighting to the death. Now you're back making googly eyes at each other like nothing happened. Makes me want to heave."

Angel had lived for over a century as a terrifying monster with a passion for senseless violence, and then spent just as many years suppressing such urges. Yet he'd never come closer to letting his self-control slip as in that moment. He wanted to grind his fist so hard into Spike's smarmy little mouth that he was never able to utter another word ever again.

Their 'fight to the death' was one of the most heinous of all Angel's memories. He didn't want to be reminded of that day. Of that time. The things he'd done to Buffy. The things he'd made her do. The things he'd made her do to him. The Watcher, the sword, the fighting, the anguish, the portal. And more importantly, he didn't want Buffy reminded of it either. She had already cried too many tears over him and because of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Buffy deflected Spike's words, but both vampires could hear the doubt in her voice.

"Oh, yeah. You're just friends." Spike drawled sarcastically.

"That's right." Angel responded hastily, needing Buffy to believe it more than anything else.

"You're not friends. You'll never be friends." Spike said, the scantly hidden truth pouring from his mouth like delicious poison. "You'll be in love 'til it kills you both. You'll fight. And you'll shag. And you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver. But you'll never be friends."

Both Buffy and Angel were struck silent by his words, and Spike, always with a flair for the theatrical, brought his hand to his head and let his index finger drive into his temple. "Love isn't brains, children, it's blood. Blood screaming inside you to work its will. I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

Seemingly satiated by his little speech, Spike turned back to the shelves to renew his search of the stock.

Angel could hear the quickening of Buffy's heartbeat. Her fast, shallow breathing. Knowing now was not the time for pretence, he turned toward her and lifted his eyes to appraise her. Whatever he hadn't been able to read from her thrumming heart he could see plainly in her body language – she was upset, awkward and uncomfortable.

He hated Spike for making her feel that way. Hated him. Hated the entire situation. Maybe even his complete miserable existence.

Most of all he wanted to know if Buffy had reacted that way because she agreed with Spike's words, or if she was feeling uneasy because she didn't. Didn't love him anymore. Didn't think of them as anything more than friends.

Again, that question reverberated in his mind.

 _Are you still my girl?_

But it was left unspoken, and unanswered.

Buffy's piercing green eyes briefly raised, almost as if by their own volition. But the second their gazes met she clenched her jaw and looked sharply away.

Angel suddenly wished for the ground to open up and for the Hellmouth to swallow him. He'd already done such a sizeable stint in hell and there was no way it could be worse than what he was now forced to endure.

Spike's voice filled the dead air of the magic shop once again, this time with jolly inflection. "Eye of rat!" he declared, hoisting a dubious looking jar.

And the nightmare went on.


	2. Enemies

**A/N:** Please note this chapter's dialogue has been lifted from the season 3 episode "Enemies" and only the narrative was written by me. This is a key moment that's important to the rest of the fic.

 **Disclaimer:** If they were mine, nothing that happened in the comics would ever come to pass! ;)

* * *

 **S03E17 – Enemies**

He felt her presence before he saw her. Same as always, it started with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. That was a warning from his inner demon that a slayer was nearby. Then it quickly melted into tingles at the base of his spine. That sensation was unique to Buffy. His Buffy sense.

Next, he heard her footfall. The clicking of her heels on the stone floor of the mansion. Unmistakably soft and feminine, completely masking the truth of her inner strength and power.

Then he smelled her scent. A sweet combination of strawberry shampoo, lip gloss, perfume and something else exclusively her. Her scent was like a drug and he wondered if he could ever smell enough to get high from it. He was sure he could if he tried.

Finally, she rounded the corner and came through the door. He had spent the past few hours sitting by the hearth of the large fireplace - brooding and waiting for her inevitable arrival, but as she came into view he suddenly felt anxious and tore his eyes away from the doorway.

He was afraid of the terrible truths he might read in her body language, or the look on her beautiful face. The truth that she hated him now, just as she hated Angelus. The truth that after his stellar acting performance with Faith and the Mayor, Buffy could no longer entirely tell him apart from Angelus. The truth that she had been fooling herself this entire time, with her naïve notion that Angelus and Angel were two separate men. Because they weren't, and they never had been.

He gave her a brief sideways glance. He took in her pale grey satin skirt and the dusty rose sweater that fit like it had been made just for her. He even saw the delicate silver chain that draped intricately in the hollow of her throat. But he didn't have the courage to look up towards her eyes. Instead he refocused his vision on the opposite blackened wall of the cold, dark room.

"How you doing?" he asked quietly, his elbows resting on his knees and his palms pressed together in front of his body, moving slowly back and forth as a way to relieve the nervous tension simmering inside him.

"Been better." was all she said, her voice equally quiet yet loaded with volumes of unspoken emotion.

"Not hard to believe." he replied.

Finally he looked at her completely. She looked like a girl who had spent an hour in front of the mirror carefully applying enough makeup to hide the heartbreak that was lurking in the shadows of her face, and his heart broke for her in that moment. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, hold her, kiss away that faraway sadness in her eyes. But he wasn't sure if she would let him. Not yet. He needed to let her vent her emotions before she would let him touch her, he knew that much.

"You were a real soldier last night, Buffy." he added, dragging himself to his feet to stand tall in front of her.

"That's me. Just one of the troops." she replied, those pent up emotions leaking steadily from her mouth again.

"I know how hard it was for you." he offered, hoping she knew it was the truth.

"I doubt that."

Her simple words cut him like a knife, and yet they confused him. He still wasn't sure what had hurt her the most about the little stunt they'd pulled on Faith and it seemed there were so many possibilities.

Was it just seeing and hearing Angelus again? Had that resurfaced the seemingly suppressed trauma of all the damned awful things he'd done to her? The things that made him so ashamed he wasn't sure how he even managed to get out of bed each night and face the world. Was it the fact that she'd been forced to watch him kiss and touch not just another girl, but another slayer – her sister slayer and a traitor to boot? Was it the moment he'd sucker punched her and knocked her out cold on the same stone floor they were now standing on?

It also occurred to him that right up until the point where she'd woken up shackled against that wall and could feel her chains weren't really holding her, she had no way of even knowing if the shaman had kept his word and left Angel's soul in place. For all she knew, the vile words he'd spat at her and that evil smirk on his face had been for real. Seeing her that upset, watching her eyes cloud over with hurt and confusion had almost torn him up inside. Buffy was right – he really couldn't imagine how hard that must have been for her.

"If there's anything I can do to make it better..." Angel trailed off.

She threw him a weird, sad smile. "Look… I know you only did what I asked you to. And we got what we wanted…"

Suddenly he wasn't confused anymore. It was as if her unsure yet leading words had jolted some sense into him. He didn't need to wonder which offence from the previous night had hurt her. It was all of them combined. A myriad of minor hurts all drawn together to form an atom bomb of misery, and it had exploded all over their relationship. He could see the harsh reality in the dim light of the fire, and a sickening knot twisted in his stomach.

He never would have agreed to the act if he'd known it would tear them apart. He never wanted to say or do those things. He never wanted to be the cause of that look in her eyes.

"I never wanted it to go that far."

It took him two beats of Buffy's quickened heart to realize he'd inadvertently blurted part of his inner monologue out loud. He dragged his eyes away from her face again, not wanting to see her reaction. Not wanting her to know his world was crumbling, even though he knew hers was too.

"I know." she said, her voice now filled with conviction. "It's not even a question. But after...I just need a little break."

There. She'd said it. The words he'd been waiting to hear. The words he'd somehow known were going to tumble from her perfectly pink glossed lips. The bomb had been detonated. The world had crumbled. His world.

In that moment Angel plainly and unambiguously hated himself. He hated that he'd agreed to the stupid plan in the first place. He'd known from the moment Giles suggested the ruse that it was going to end badly. He hated that he'd managed to cause such terrible emotional wounds in the only woman he'd ever loved. He hated that he could still taste Faith on his tongue and no amount of brushing or rinsing could erase that vile girl from inside his mouth.

Mostly, he hated himself because he was Angelus. Although he didn't need the events of the previous night to remind him of that fact, suddenly the truth had never been more obvious or distressing.

"Please." she pressed him.

Angel realized that he was still yet to give any kind of response, and that Buffy had been standing before him anxiously waiting for a reaction. Still unable to muster words, he simply provided her with the subtlest of nods to show her that he was acquiescing to her devastating request.

As she turned and made her way back towards the door that would lead her out of the mansion and out of his world, he felt a question bubble to the surface of his despairing mind. It was that same question he'd been waiting months to ask her. The only thing he'd really wanted to know since his unexplained return from the hell dimension. Suddenly, as he faced what was possibly the end of their haggard love story, he was no longer afraid to give the question life.

"You still my girl?"

She turned back to look at him, her blonde hair framing her sun kissed face like a gilded crown.

"Always."

He heard her. Not just with her ears, but with his heart and his soul.

 _Always._

He knew it was the truth.

Knew she meant it.

Knew it wasn't over between them. Not really, not permanently.

Even as the sound of her footfall no longer echoed in the mansion, and the space returned to its previous state of deathly still and quiet, he didn't feel completely alone.

She would be back. He knew she would be back.

And he would be waiting for her.


	3. Graduation Day

**A/N:** Both the dialogue and narrative in this scene were created by me, but the scene itself is lifted from the season 3 episode "Graduation Day - Part 2". It explores moments off screen, and also the gut wrenching moment Buffy and Angel part ways. Next chapter will move into the main plot of the fic and be wholly my own work. :)

 **Disclaimer:** Joss, Joss, Joss.

* * *

 **S03E22 Graduation Day – Part 2**

Angel's ears were still ringing, though the battle had been over for more than half an hour. He ran a slightly trembling hand through his hair, feeling the embers and dust that coated each tendril beneath his fingertips. He vaguely wondered if the grit plastered to his hair was fragments from the explosion or ash from fallen foes. Probably a combination of both.

He had been standing on the steps at the front of the school when Giles triggered the detonator. Even though he had expected the explosion, the impact nearly knocked him off his feet. The brightness of the blast itself had forced him to throw a hand up and shield his face, and his vision had momentarily blurred.

The crying, shouting and clanging of weapons instantly died along with the Mayor, and it was as if the whole town was plunged into an aftermath of shocked silence. In the quiet seconds following the detonation, when everyone had stopped and turned in awe towards the school building, the few enemies still battling with the students on the lawn had panicked and taken off running in a desperate bid to find safety amongst the shadows.

Angel hadn't hesitated before bolting after them, chasing them to a nearby alley before expertly ending their campaign of terror with nothing more than the pointy end of a stake, the anxiety of not yet knowing if Buffy was safe and the pent-up rage of a broken heart.

Now standing across the road from the epicenter of the action, he allowed the thick smoke still billowing from the debris and a conveniently parked fire truck to partially obscure him from view so he could carefully assess the scene before him.

The Sunnydale Fire Department had turned out in droves to expertly contain and extinguish the burning rubble that was once the high school. Angel wasn't exactly easy to impress, but he'd never expected the situation to be under control so quickly. He wondered briefly if one the Scooby Gang had called in an anonymous tip right before the battle began. It definitely seemed like something Giles would do, or maybe Willow.

Injured staff, students and parents were still being rounded up like dazed and confused sheep, herded towards first aid stations and ambulances. But for the most part, everyone that needed assistance had been attended to.

The fallen had been respectfully sheathed in body bags, then loaded into trucks to carry them towards the morgue for processing and identification.

Angel had no idea what the authorities planned to do with the exploded and charred crispy worm carcass that was surely splattered all over the inside of what remained of the building. He could smell the rotting flesh, even from outside.

Sighing, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black woollen duster and refocused his attention on the hive of activity before him. He knew he needed to disappear; knew he'd told her he was leaving as soon as the battle was over. But he couldn't just walk away until he made sure she and her friends were safe and well. He wouldn't be able to live without knowing if they'd all made it through to the other side.

He knew that Xander was okay. They'd been standing directly next to each other when the explosion had ripped through the school. The boy had gone out of his way to make Angel's life frustrating over the past few years, and yet Angel found himself immensely relieved that he was alive and well.

Likewise Cordelia had been standing a few feet to the left of them both, on the bottom step. As the explosion had fizzled out and Angel had turned to chase the vampires that rushed from the scene, he'd caught sight of her light blue dress and long dark hair. She had been huddled with a young boy in a red jacket, and for the most part unharmed.

Willow and Oz had been there too, both behind and below him on the concrete walkway. They too were locked together, hands gripping at each other to quell their terror, but otherwise healthy.

So really, if he was honest with himself, the only two people he was yet to account for were the slayer and her watcher. If everything had gone according to their meticulously drawn out plan, the pair would have ended up together on the lawn behind the library. If they were both okay, they would have returned to the others by now.

His stomach twisted with nerves and his hands became fists inside his pockets as he scanned the crowd. Closing his eyes, he tried to quieten his mind and reach out with his vampiric hearing for any signs of them.

"I really am in a lot of pain you know." a distinctly English voice cut through the white noise. "I don't mean to be a terrible bother about it all, but I really would like some morphine. Do you think they have morphine? Would it help if you tell them I'm one of the heroes who saved the day? That would surely earn me some morphine?"

"Do be quiet Wesley. Perhaps the less you say the better, wouldn't you agree?"

Angel's eyes immediately snapped open and narrowed in on the two watchers he had heard. Wesley, clearly sporting injuries that were minor at best, was lying on the ground being tended to by a paramedic. Giles was sitting beside him, his legs drawn up, elbows rested on his knees and his glasses hanging idly from his right hand. He looked tired and worn, and Angel wasn't sure if it was from the battle they'd endured or from listening to Wesley moan about his plight.

Angel knew Giles wouldn't look so calm and casual if his slayer had been harmed, and he felt himself awash with relief. The tension was released from his tightly gripped fists as he watched the paramedic load Wesley onto a stretcher and wheel him towards a waiting ambulance, still complaining of his pain and injuries in a pitiful English sort of way.

And then, finally, he saw her.

He saw her and his heart filled with joy because she was alive.

He saw her and his heart shattered like the high school windows, because the time had finally come to leave her.

A big part of him couldn't believe he was actually going through with this forced separation. She'd saved his life only yesterday – been willing to lay down her own life to save his. He could still feel her powerful blood coursing through his body. She'd willingly and unquestioningly given him every part of her. And yet here he was walking away from her.

A tear rolled down his face before he even realized he was crying. He bit back a sob, knowing he needed to put distance between them before he allowed himself to break down and truly feel the loss of her from his life.

Yet something anchored him to the spot, almost as if the asphalt had melted onto his boots and frozen him in place. He needed to watch her, drink in every aspect of her. Needed to burn this image of her into his retinas so that he would never forget any microscopic detail of her. As if he ever could.

She was tracking down the road, now lined on either side with emergency vehicles, still wearing her red leather coat. Her hair, which had been sensibly pulled back during the battle, was now loosely hanging around her face. It made her seem more innocent, somehow. Though Angel knew better than anyone that the innocence was long gone from his beloved.

She was tightly flanked by Xander, and although Angel couldn't quite hear them talking he could see their mouths moving. Yet she was obviously distracted from the conversation, her head twisting and turning as she searched the vicinity. He knew she was searching for him. Knew that was a sign that he needed to get out of there.

Angel pulled his coat more tightly around his torso and prepared himself to leave when he caught sight of the broken look in her eyes. It wasn't sadness or longing or even hurt in those mossy green orbs - it was fear. And it was an emotion he understood completely.

Just as he had feared for her safety, and had been sated by her appearing in front of him now, she was similarly afraid for him. And unlike him, she had no way of knowing if he was okay.

Xander would likely have told her about him running off after the last of the vampires, and that would only have served to heighten her worries. For all she knew, he was dust. He couldn't leave her with the weight of his possible death on her shoulders. That was a burden too great for her to carry a second time.

As he stepped off the sidewalk and began to cross the street, he noticed that Xander had moved away and been replaced at Buffy's side by Giles. After a few moments of conversation between the slayer and her watcher, and the exchange of a crisp white graduation parchment, Giles gave his study a tight-lipped smile and headed back towards the ambulance to join his bumbling, injured compatriot.

Before Angel could take another step towards his beloved, her eyebrows knitted in surprised comprehension and he realized that she had sensed his presence. She spun her head and her eyes locked with his.

They were still at least twenty feet apart, but he didn't make another move towards her and nor her to him. The distance between them was both physical and metaphorical now.

Though their mouths spoke no words to each other, their eyes spoke volumes. A dialogue of passion and longing, where the feelings passing between them were equally shared because he knew she was reading the exact same sentiments from his eyes that he was reading from hers.

 _I'm okay._

 _I'm here._

 _I understand._

 _I don't know how to do this without you._

 _I want my life to be with you._

 _You're the one freaky thing in my freaky world that makes sense to me._

 _Forever, that's the whole point._

 _I love you._

 _I love you._

 _With all my heart I love you._

 _I'm still your girl._

 _Always._

And then he did the hardest thing he'd ever done in his entire wretched existence on planet Earth – he took a step backwards.

Their gazes held for one moment longer, before he tightly clenched his jaw with steely determination, turned and walked away. He didn't look back. He couldn't look back. He knew she was still watching him and if he glanced at her just once more he'd never be able to leave.

This was what he had to do. To protect her from his curse, to give her the future she deserved, to keep Angelus locked away forever. This was what he had to do.

And it was pure torture.

His heart hadn't beat for centuries, but that night it burned like fire.


	4. The Vahrall Nest

**A/N:** This chapter is all original and the true start of the story. It is set somewhere mid season 5 - after episode 10 (when Riley leaves Buffy) but prior to episode 14 (when Dawn infamously tells Buffy that Spike is totally into her). There's absolutely no reason why this scene could not fit seamlessly into the off screen happenings of the show as it sticks to canon. Buffy comes across as quite childish in this chapter, but I actually think it's quite true to character as I've just rewatched seasons 4 and 5 of the show and she and Spike really do bicker like school kids!

 **Disclaimer:** Oh how I wish they were mine.

 **Spoilers:** Season 4 Episode 9 is alluded to in this chapter (that's the one where Spike and Buffy fall under Willow's spell and become engaged).

* * *

 **Mid-Season 5**

Their everyday lives were nothing, if not bizarre. Normal was merely a fantasy, a pipedream, a curious notion that none of them would ever truly understand.

And yet, nothing could have prepared him for the inexplicably strange circumstances he found himself in.

It was an unusually balmy September evening, the temperature still in the low 80s despite the clock striking midnight some time ago, and he was trudging through a thick patch of scrub in the Angeles National Forest.

To his left, his beautiful slayer was easily matching his steady pace with her own, and to his right, his ridiculous bleached blonde grandchilde was chewing on a matchstick and humming an unrecognisable tune just loud enough to infuriate him.

No, not _your_ beautiful slayer, came the voice like whispered ice inside his head. Not anymore.

They were hunting a particularly nasty Vahrall demon that had caused havoc over the Labor Day weekend in both Sunnydale and downtown Los Angeles. A rare joint effort of both Angel Investigations and the Scooby gang.

Of course, he'd rather have faced off with the demon on his own, but Buffy had insisted over the phone that he not make a move until she was with him. The demon had apparently made mincemeat of one of the girls in her poetry class at college and she was seeking both vengeance and closure for the girl's family.

It was the first time they'd properly spoken after the terrible events with Faith in Los Angeles the previous year, and though things were still strained between them they'd at least found a common ground with the demon and managed to behave like adults. Spike, on the other hand, not so much.

"I still don't see why Peaches is here." Spike huffed, cutting through the tense silence like a dagger. He was brandishing his weapon of choice – a large battle axe – like a marching band baton. Angel was waiting for him to toss it into the air and deftly catch it. Any minute now…

"You don't see why I'm here?" Angel scoffed, his eyes narrowing darkly. "I don't see why you're here, Spike. Care to explain to me why you're even a part of this?"

Even in the dark, Angel could see the smug smirk forming on Spike's lips. "I'm here because Goldilocks asked me to come. She needs me."

The mere thought that Buffy had come to rely on Spike was like a physical blow to Angel's chest. He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and wondered if he was going to be sick. Was it even possible for a vampire to be sick under these circumstances?

He simply couldn't fathom why any of the Sunnydale lot were allowing Spike to even live, and yet now it seemed that he was working alongside them. Of course he knew about the creepy government funded chip in Spike's head. But chip or no chip, he was still a soulless blood sucking fiend capable of doing great evil in the world. Why was he the only one who remembered that?

Both men flicked their eyes across to Buffy, who was still silently trekking through the forest next to them. Spike still full of mirth and Angel glowering dangerously, trying desperately to read her face and determine if Buffy truly had come to depend on his annoying one-time evil sidekick. She glanced over at them, immediately noticing the expressions on both their faces, and clicked her tongue in annoyance.

She looked straight at Spike, peering around Angel's body as she addressed him. "You're here because I needed to get to the forest before the Vahrall demon's trail went cold, and nobody else was around to drive me."

Angel seethed internally, once again regretting that he'd never found the time to teach Buffy to drive before he left Sunnydale. He couldn't imagine what those two could possibly have had to say to each other on the fifty-minute journey to the national forest.

"And you're here because I paid you twenty bucks." she added for good measure, hammering home to Angel that her collaboration with Spike was merely happenstance rather than anything deliberate. He felt immense relief wash over his undead body.

Spike let out a self-satisfied chuckle and tipped the sharp edge of his axe in her direction. "And that's twenty bucks which you're yet to actually pay me, Slayer."

"I'll pay you once the job is done." she snapped back.

"If you recall, the bleedin' job was to drive you here!" he replied, his voice dripping with both amusement and disbelief. "I'm just out here in this sodding woodland with you and the great poof to do you a favour. Also, because it's been far too long since I've pummelled anything worth pummelling."

She said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow at him incredulously.

"You know what I mean, Slayer." Spike continued, that insidious smirk yet again forming on his lips. "You love the pummel just as much as I do."

"You're damn right I do." Buffy suddenly crossed in front of Angel and made to grab at Spike with the hand that wasn't holding her broadsword.

Before she could make contact, Angel reached out swiftly and locked his hand around her wrist, dragging her back toward his chest. She fell into him clumsily and he heard her heartbeat instantly pick up as their skin made brief contact before she righted herself and pulled away.

"Don't let him provoke you, Buffy." he said quietly. "We're here to work and distractions aren't productive. Once the Vahrall demon is dead you can pummel him all you like."

The immature little girl in Buffy reared her head as she peered around Angel once more to sneer at Spike, seemingly pleased that she had received permission to hurt him once their task was completed.

"You just try and pummel me, Pet." Spike scoffed, dragging the matchstick from his mouth and flicking it on the ground. "No slayer is a match for William the Bloody."

"William the Bloody Impotent." she shot back. "William the neutered town idiot."

Angel, for his part, was already feeling disbelief that he'd earlier experienced guilt and jealousy at the idea of Buffy and Spike spending time together in Sunnydale. The pair of them were clearly reduced to nothing more than bickering children when they were in close proximity of each other. He had no idea how Giles or any of the others put up with them. At this rate he couldn't see Spike lasting the rest of the year without finding a stake firmly embedded in his heart.

Spike opened his mouth, some equally inane insult dangling precariously off his tongue, when Angel grabbed him firmly by his leather coat and silenced him with a furious look.

"Both of you need to settle down." he commanded, letting himself slip into boss mode. It was a tone of voice younger Buffy had always responded to with reverence and Spike had spent decades dutifully obeying, so he knew it would cut through the nonsense quickly. "We need to find this demon, kill it and get home before the sun comes up. Neither of you are new at this demon hunting thing. Stop acting like children and focus. It isn't rocket science."

Buffy had the grace to look at least mildly bashful, and she swung her sword up to her chest like a security blanket before silently redeploying her energy to the hunt.

Angel nodded almost imperceptibly at her and offered her a tight-lipped smile. He didn't blame her, really. He understood how inanely annoying Spike could be and also knew exactly what pushed her buttons.

Thoughts of pushing Buffy's buttons quickly drifted into dangerous territory as visions of touching Buffy's soft skin, and kissing her pouty mouth swam in his mind. He shook his head firmly to clear the mental images away. His love for her was ever present, he needed no reminder of that, but seeing her again after so many months apart was like pure torture. He longed desperately to touch her, smell her scent on her skin, taste her, melt into her and never let her go. But he knew that fruit was so of the forbidden, as Buffy would say.

They pushed through into a clearing, and could all see the faint glow of fire in the near distance. Without a doubt, the work of the Vahrall demon. They were close now, and moved quickly back amongst the trees to gain some cover. Stealth mode was about the only thing these three champions could actually accomplish with synchronicity. Well, more like two champions and a pest of a vampire.

As they continued through the thicket of trees, Angel let his mind drift back to his beloved. He had left her by his own choice, made the best decision for both of them, and now he had to continue living the consequences. He had to live them every day for the rest of his immortal life. Missing her, wanting her, aching for her – that was all par for the course.

He wasn't sure if she still loved him, as he did her. He hoped that she did, but the farm boy Riley had somewhat muddied that ideal. Angel didn't know how she could still love him and yet also move on so swiftly. Never mind that he'd directly told her to move on. He'd practically pushed her into that Iowa hick's arms. Just the thought of it made him involuntarily shudder.

The normal life he'd wanted for her had been like a waking nightmare for him. At least that was over, as far as he knew. The college boyfriend was out of the picture and Angel couldn't say he was sad about it. Not that he would ever tell her that.

"I killed a rocket scientist once." Spike suddenly piped up out of nowhere.

Both Angel and Buffy turned their eyes to him immediately, almost as if they were surprised that he had found the gall to speak after being admonished just moments ago.

"Such a disappointment, really." Spike continued, seemingly unaffected by the glares of his companions. "I'd hoped he would taste like rocket fuel but sadly it was just regular old blood pumping through his veins. Didn't stop me from finishing him off though." He ended with a funny little giggle and a shake of his head.

"That's it." Buffy seethed.

This time she was too fast for even Angel's supernaturally enhanced reflexes. Before he could even move she had Spike by the throat and was pinning him against the closest tree. Spike was still laughing, though the humour had disappeared from his eyes. He moved to raise the battle axe in his hands, but Buffy brought her knee up and knocked it swiftly out of his grasp. It landed on the dirt with a heavy thud.

"Are you somehow mentally deficient? Do you have a death wish? Why would you brag about killing innocent humans to me? I'm the friggen vampire slayer. I'll end you in the blink of an eye."

"You won't end me." He rasped, his speech somewhat inhibited by her fingers clenched around his jugular. "You need me."

"I need you like I need a hole in the head." Buffy snapped, dropping her sword and hastily reaching into the back pocket of her blue jeans to produce a perfectly sharpened stake.

Angel gritted his teeth and took a step towards them, knowing he had to somehow diffuse the situation. He had no loyalty whatsoever to Spike, nor did he have a burning desire to see him live. But he also knew that Buffy had no real intention of actually offing someone who was in some way, shape or form aiding the side of good. It meant the only likely outcome of their fight was a lengthy squabble and maybe some fisticuffs. In other words, a massive waste of time and an ongoing distraction from the search.

Suddenly a growl drew their attention and the demon they'd spent the past two hours tracking burst through the nearby forest landscape. With a heavy sigh Angel withdrew his previous assessment: the three of them were apparently as incapable at stealth mode as they were at getting along.

Buffy turned to look over her shoulder as the demon approached and immediately let go of Spike's throat, their quarrel forgotten. She reached down to snag her sword off the ground and hoisted it expertly, planting her feet into position ready for an offensive attack.

Spike grinned gleefully and stepped out from behind the slayer, as excited as a little boy on Christmas morning at the prospect of some violence.

"I call dibs!" he said, racing past Buffy and Angel to attack the demon before it could even reach their party of three.

He swung a right hook into the demon's face and watched it reel back in shock and anger before regrouping and coming towards them again. This time Spike launched into an inverted roundhouse kick off the left leg, then followed it up with a double jab punch and a hammer fist that left the Vahrall sprawled on his ass. A swift kick to the ribs knocked the demon completely onto its back, so Spike threw himself onto its chest and started striking it repeatedly across the face with a closed fist.

Buffy rolled her eyes and slowly lowered her sword, coming to stand next to Angel. He stole a glance at her and could plainly see the annoyance and amusement battling for dominance on her face. It was not in the slayer's nature to let others take up fights on her behalf, but Spike clearly had the situation under control without their assistance.

"I'm surprised this demon was able to do such a number on us in both Sunnydale and LA. It really doesn't seem to be putting up much resistance with Dopey over there." Angel observed with a scowl. "And once again, may I just say that Spike's keen participation tonight is making me feel confused and slightly uncomfortable."

"We were facing off against a nest of Vahrall the day Spike got his mojo back and discovered he could hurt demons without triggering that chip in his head." she said, explaining Spike's eagerness to do their dirty work with a casual shrug.

Angel wanted to tell her that her explanation had only served to confuse him more, because it clearly demonstrated that Spike had been hanging out with the gang even before he was assisting them in their cause. It really made no sense for the Scooby's to allow him access to their inner workings at all. But then something even more confusing occurred to Angel. He frowned and turned his head to look at her fully.

"A nest, you said? You mean they're pack demons?"

"I guess?" Buffy replied, shrugging again. "I never got time to ask them while I was busy trying to stop them from sacrificing themselves to the hellmouth."

The hairs on the back of Angel's neck stood on end and a feeling of dread and understanding washed over him. They weren't just dealing with one demon. He had no idea why none of his research had indicated that the Vahrall worked in groups, but he would need to have a serious talk with Wesley about obvious deficiencies in the Angel Investigations research capabilities.

"Buffy I think we need to get closer to that fire." he said decisively, indicating to the steady cloud of smoke snaking upward towards the stars above the tree line. "I think we need to be on the hunt for more Vahrall."

As if right on cue, eight extremely pissed off looking Vahrall appeared in the clearing. They were just in time to watch Spike snap the neck of the original demon that he'd pinned on the forest floor and they clearly weren't happy about it.

Spike, who was still grinning mirthfully from his flawless kill, glanced up as the group approached and finally had the sense to look at least mildly concerned. He stood and quickly shuffled back towards the protection of Angel and the slayer, seeking strength in numbers.

"Tag, you're it." Spike said, looking pointedly at Buffy.

"Thought you wanted a good pummel?" Buffy asked with a wry smirk.

"Well yeah but I can't have all the fun can I, Pet?" came his quick-witted response. "Sharing is caring."

Angel found himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes. In just one night he'd already heard a generation's worth of bickering from Spike and Buffy, and he didn't have the patience to hear any more of it.

"Hey boys," Buffy called, shifting her attention to the demons that were now only feet away from them. "Blondie Bear here just told me that his dance card is full. Will any of you dance with me instead?"

Without another moment of hesitation, she launched herself towards the attackers. She drew three away from the main group, brandishing her sword at them. She landed a set of expertly timed kicks and punches, truly making her efforts look like the dance she'd just spoken of. She had always been a graceful fighter – fast, agile and smart.

Angel quickly followed her lead and met two of the demons head-on. He caught the first with a sweeping bolo punch, then used his momentum to backhand the other with a closed fist. The Vahrall staggered back slightly so he followed through with a push kick to one and a knee strike to the other. Producing a long silver dagger from the inside pocket of his leather duster, he lunged forward, grabbed one of them and sliced the knife along its neck. It slid through the skin easily like butter, and blue blood started oozing from the wound even before the creature hit the ground.

Angel plunged his dagger into the chest of his second attacker and found a moment of breathing space. Obviously not needing to breathe, he took the opportunity to glance over at Buffy and check on her progress. She had swiftly disposed of two demons and was currently working on her third. She didn't look like she needed any assistance, so he looked in the other direction to check on Spike.

Much to Angel's surprise, the idiotic grin had returned to his grandchilde's face and he could hear him humming the same annoying tune from earlier. Despite the danger of fighting such a large nest of meaty, aggressive demons, Spike was obviously still enjoying himself.

He threw a sloppy haymaker punch at the demon closest to him, then reached down to grab his battle axe before swinging it around his head aggressively. The Vahrall saw the opportunity to grab him with both hands, swinging him around roughly before sending him flying into a nearby tree. To his credit, Spike was immediately back on his feet and he rushed back into the fray. He hit the demon with a mean right hook and then ran it through with his axe, sending it down howling.

"Six down, three to go." Buffy announced, mid-way through decapitating the last of her trio with a precise swing of her sword.

Without needing instruction, they each raced toward a different demon, ready to do battle again.

"You know I've been meaning to ask you," Angel called across to her as he took an upper cut to the eye socket and then quickly dodged a second punch. "What's with the broadsword? Not your usual weapon of choice."

Spike's joyful humming was increasing in both volume and enthusiasm as he knuckle punched his adversary. Angel tried to block the irksome noise and focus on the fight in front of him.

Buffy feigned to the left then brought her right leg up in a front leg axe kick, sending her demon onto its ass. She answered him without a glance in his direction. "It's Giles. He's on another of those kicks where he wants me to broaden my weaponry horizons. I'm humouring him. What better weapon to broaden with than a broadsword?"

Without another word, she plunged the sword into the demon's stomach, withdrew it quickly and then stepped back to stretch her tired muscles and watch the others.

Angel smirked at her typical Buffy response and landed a perfect flying knee strike to his demon's groin before slashing its throat with the dagger. He knew it lacked artistry to kill two demons with the same move, but if it got the job done that was all that mattered. He had never been as showy with his combat moves as Angelus.

At the same moment, Spike landed a winning blow with his axe and the last of the Vahrall nest was eliminated.

"Well th-" Buffy started, but suddenly Spike's humming was replaced by powerful singing.

"Did you ever know that you're my hero? You're everything I would like to be." he crowed, tossing his axe to the forest floor as he threw his arms out dramatically. "I can fly higher than an eagle. You are the wind beneath my wings."

Angel frowned, wondering if it as a tune he should have recognized. His pop culture knowledge was still sorely lacking and he had to admit the words made no more sense than the melody Spike had been humming all night. But Buffy had clearly recognized the song because she was openly seething at Spike.

"Spike." she hissed, shooting him her angry slayer look. "Not another word."

"What?" Spike asked, feigning innocence. "You don't like the song anymore? You sure liked it when you chose it for the first dance at our wed-"

"Not. Another. Word." she snarled, looking anxiously between the two vampires. "I mean it, Spike."

Spike laughed and shook his head, but obediently fell silent. Instead he reached into his pocket and produced a cigarette and small silver lighter, then took a long drag of nicotine and deliberately exhaled in Angel's direction.

"Spike," Angel said, stepping through the cloud of smoke. "Why don't you drag these bodies back to that fire over there and make sure they burn?"

Spike, mid-inhalation of his cigarette, scoffed and spluttered. "Do I look like your patsy? Do it your bleedin' self, Captain Forehead."

Angel growled softly and yanked his wallet out of his jacket, shoving a fifty dollar note roughly into Spike's hand.

"Here. This is the twenty dollars Buffy promised you, plus an extra thirty to clean up the Vahrall bodies" He said gruffly.

Spike appeared pleased with the turn of events. He cheerfully dropped his cigarette and stubbed it with the steel-capped toe of his boot before moving past them to begin dragging dead demon bodies back towards the now empty nest.

Angel and Buffy were suddenly alone in the forest, and Angel found himself more nervous than he should have been. It was the first time they had been properly alone in over a year. He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and gave her that languid half smile that Cordelia often referred to as 'Buffy face' in that endearingly annoying way of hers.

For the first time that night, Angel took the opportunity to properly look at her. It had been so many long, hard months of only seeing his beloved in his dreams and though he would never admit it, he was still terribly torn up inside from their quarrels over Faith and Riley. He'd never wanted relations between them to become so sour, and he was glad most of that angry tension seemed to have dissipated between them.

He noticed that the real-life Buffy's hair was slightly longer than dream Buffy's, and falling in loose wavy curls down past her shoulder blades. It was possibly a darker shade of blonde too, with more golden tones than he remembered. But then it was so hard to tell in the dark forest, the trees cutting through the moonlight and casting uneven shadows across their faces.

She was a little thinner than he remembered, too. She had always been a petite little thing, but he could clearly see her collarbone protruding above the neckline of her plain black shirt. He wanted to ask her if she'd been eating properly, yet thought better of it and kept his mouth firmly shut. He would always worry about her, but she didn't need to know that.

"So…how have you been?" she asked, finally breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence.

"Fine." He replied lamely. "Busy. You?"

"Yes, fine." she parroted him. "Good. Busy."

Spike reappeared in the clearing, snorting and shaking his head at them. "How devastating that I'm missing out on this riveting conversation." He said mockingly before grabbing another two demons by the feet and disappearing back into the shadows of the trees.

Both Buffy and Angel watched his retreating back before making apprehensive eye contact once again.

"How is your mother?" Angel asked. "I heard she was unwell?"

Buffy's face softened at his question and she dropped her shoulders as the apprehension left her, before smiling a genuine smile. "She's doing much better now. It was pretty scary for a while there."

"I'm glad to hear it." Angel said, hoping he was conveying his sincerity.

Seeing Buffy finally relax, he felt safe to take a small step towards her and bring a hand up to lightly touch her elbow in a guarded yet familiar gesture. He was immensely relieved when she didn't shy her arm away from the contact or ask him to get lost.

"Buffy, why is Spike hanging around with you?" he asked, dropping his voice to a hush.

"I know he's annoying." she replied. "But he does help more often than I'd care to admit. Plus he's good with Dawn – very protective of her."

Angel felt his stomach do a little flip flop at the mention of Spike and Dawn spending any amount of time together. His care and concern for Dawn extended past the fact that she was the kid sister of his only love. She had always reminded him so much of his own little sister, Kathy. He truly loved Dawn like a part of his family and he would do anything to shield her from harm.

"I know you think he's helping you and I know he's got that weird chip in his head now, but please don't forget he's a vampire." he said sternly. "And not the kind with a soul. He's a killer. Evil. He'll turn on you the first chance he gets."

Something akin to anger and annoyance flashed in Buffy's eyes and she ripped her elbow away from his grasp, moving her hand behind her back so he couldn't reach for her again.

"You don't know the situation, okay?" she snapped. "Of course I'm aware of his true nature. We are being careful with his involvement. Do you still take me for a fool?"

Angel's heart broke just a little more as she spoke the words. When he'd left her in Sunnydale after graduation, it had been to protect them both. To give her the normal, happy life she deserved, to remove the excruciating temptation to make love to one another, and to save him from the torment of watching his beloved grow old and die without him. To hear now that she'd assumed he thought she was too foolish to weigh in on that decision was like a physical blow to his chest.

"Sweetheart I never took you for a fool, I promise you." he said, trying to prevent his voice from cracking with emotion. "I just want to make sure you're protecting yourself. I worry about you."

Buffy's eyes shone with warmth once more and the arm tucked behind her back slowly returned to rest at her side. "You still worry about me?"

He wanted to fold her into a loving embrace, kiss away her doubts, murmur sweet nothings in her ear until the sun came up. He wanted to remind her over and over again that he would love her until the end of days and worry about her long after even that. But he knew none of that was sensible, so instead he simply smiled.

"Of course. More than you'll ever know." he said.

 _You still my girl?_ His soul whispered the words his mouth could never utter.

 _Always._ Her hazel eyes conveyed her soul's reply.

The crunching of leaves under heavy boots made them both jump slightly with surprise as they turned to look at Spike. He was staring at them with open disgust plastered across his face.

"What are you two ninnies doing, then? Going to stand there simperin' at each other until the sun comes up?"

Angel frowned and noticed for the first time that all the demon bodies were gone from the clearing. Surely he couldn't have been wordlessly staring at Buffy for as long as it took Spike to get rid of them all? He then looked up and noticed the slight pinkish hue of the sky. Breathing deeply, he could smell the impending sunrise. He had no idea how he could have missed it.

"Ah geez, we really need to get out of here." Buffy frowned, reading the worried expression on his face.

"And here I was hoping Peaches planned to stay out here a little longer." Spike smirked. "I always thought he would look excellent filling the inside of an ash tray."

The trio backtracked quickly through the national forest, towards the spot where they'd parked their cars. They probably had ninety minutes until the sun rose, so at least there was no danger of fried crispy vampires unless something dire happened. This close to the Hellmouth, there was no guarantee more demons wouldn't appear though.

Arriving back at their vehicles without any unplanned delays, Angel silently thanked the Powers that Be for the fact that Buffy and Spike were traveling in her mother's SUV and not Spike's battered old DeSoto with the blacked out windows. He would rather have returned to Hell than let her get into that unsafe piece of junk. Even the idea of Buffy and Spike in Joyce's perfectly adequate car had him concerned. He wanted desperately to offer to drive her back to Sunnydale in his Plymouth, but he knew he wouldn't make it all the way there and then back to Los Angeles before the sun rose.

"Cheerio then, Peaches. Safe travels." Spike sniggered, unlocking the passenger door and climbing inside. "But not too safe, of course."

He put the key into the ignition and the engine purred in response, signalling to Buffy that she needed to make her way to the passenger seat or risk getting left behind.

She turned to look at Angel and smiled a smile tinged with sadness, longing and apology. They had always been terrible at goodbyes. At least this one wasn't filled with anger or resentment.

"It was nice seeing you again." she said quietly.

"It's always nice seeing you, Buffy." he replied. "You know you can always call me if you need anything, right?"

"I know." she said, and smiled again. "Ditto."

Spike revved the motor impatiently and the sound spurred Buffy into action. She turned and opened the car door without another word. Angel couldn't remember a time they'd actually used the word 'goodbye' and he didn't see a reason to start. He knew it was because their story was never truly over. Their partings were never truly goodbye. Soul mates were never completely separated.

Spike put the SUV into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot. Buffy rose her hand at the window and offered Angel a subdued but friendly wave. He returned it with his signature Buffy half smile.

He only had a very short drive back to the Hyperion so he took the time to stand and watch the road that carried his love away from him, long after the tail lights of the car had disappeared into the blackness of the pre-dawn.

The air felt cleaner than it had in a long time.


	5. Fighting perfect happiness

**A/N:** Thank you to all of you who have read my fic so far. This is my take on the infamous off screen reunion between Buffy and Angel in season 6. Please be warned this chapter is quite dark and also contains adult themes (mentions of sex but nothing explicit as I'm determined not to bump this fic up to an M rating!). I really believe Buffy and Angel meeting at this point in their lives would have been intense in a dark and frantic way, rather than some kind of soppy and love filled reunion. Oh, and all of the chapters of this story are written so that they could exist as one shot standalones, but will all very shortly start to melt together to form a plot that binds them. I hope you enjoy reading and as I said in chapter 1, please be kind as this is my first ever attempt at writing fan fiction!

 **Disclaimer:** If they were mine there would be no need for a reunion scene as they would never have been apart hahaha...

* * *

 **Post S06E04 – Flooded**

The Plymouth roared down the interstate, pushing the acceptable boundaries of the speed limit. The top was up but the windows were down and Angel's mop of thick brown hair was blowing in the wind tunnel the car created.

He shook his head and silently cursed at what he realized now was a really stupid idea. He should never have agreed to meet her half way between LA and Sunnydale; he should have just driven all the way to her.

At the time when she suggested it, all he could think about was the fact that meeting her half way meant he'd reach her sooner. Just hearing her voice on the phone had been enough to send every nerve ending in his body tingling into overdrive. His very soul was screaming out with the need to see her, smell her, touch her, determine for himself if she was truly real, discover if she had come home to him. Well, not to him. But come home just the same.

He steered the car into the parking lot of the truck stop and once again cursed his stupidity. This time for agreeing to meet her in a dirty highway diner. Greasy fast food and his beloved never belonged in the same place, and he hoped they never would again.

He pulled the park brake on and rolled his shoulders back to loosen the tension that was weighing him down. In that moment he was thankful that his heart was unbeating, as he was sure he would be having a heart attack if he was still alive.

Then the tears started flowing down his cheeks. He had promised himself he wouldn't cry. Promised over and over. But he could _feel her._ His Buffy sense was tingling. She was somewhere nearby. Waiting. For him.

He had no idea how powerful it was going to be. It was a feeling he never thought he would experience ever again and the reality of it was completely overwhelming. It was like a drug.

Pawing at his face, he tried to remove all trace of the blubbering from his appearance. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm her with red ringed eyes or tear stained cheeks. He had no idea what state he was going to find her in, and didn't want to cause her any worry.

She didn't need to know about his heartbroken misery while she was gone. It wasn't just her death that had haunted him every day and night since she'd gone away, it was the sickening knowledge he possessed of the inside of hell. He knew the torments and terrors of living inside a hell dimension. The pain, the fear, the hunger, the manipulative mind games…

The idea of Buffy living that kind of nightmare for five minutes made him tremble with anger. But having been gone from the mortal plane for almost five months, it was highly likely she'd suffered as he had; for over a hundred years. Just the thought was beyond horrifying.

Now suddenly she was back and the happiness satiating every inch of his undead body was all encompassing, powerful and quite frankly dangerous. He knew he was teetering close to the invisible edge. He knew once he actually laid eyes on her – beautiful, perfect, _alive_ – he was going to be at actual risk of dropping head first into the cavernous pool of perfect happiness.

He had spent the drive to the truck stop practicing some of the meditation the monks taught him in the Sri Lankan monastery and consciously drawing guilt-laden memories to the surface of his mind. He knew it was potentially all that was going to stand between himself and Angelus in a few short moments time.

"Dead puppies. Dead puppies dead puppies dead puppies." he murmured under his breath as he exited the vehicle and started making his way towards the entrance of the diner.

Okay, the 'dead puppies' chant wasn't exactly something he'd learned from the monks. But he'd certainly killed his fair share of puppies throughout the centuries and the macabre thought was probably calming his skittish nerves better than any meditative reflection.

He stepped up to the glass door of the restaurant, the harsh fluorescent lights inside assaulting his nocturnal eyes, and readied himself to enter when he realized his Buffy sense had abstrusely dulled. He turned, the thought occurring to him that she wasn't in there at all. But he knew she was around. Knew he could feel her. He scanned the parking lot for her, but saw nothing and nobody.

Suddenly she materialized from the shadows, oozing like liquid gold in the darkness. Seamlessly slipping into his world, silently and purposefully. Who knew she was even capable of such a level of stealth? It was surreptitiousness that would put Angel himself to shame.

She came to a stop several feet away from him, staring at her boots and unwilling or unable to meet his eyes.

He took a deep unnecessary breath and drank in the sight of her. She was very thin, and her simple outfit of black jeans and a blood red overcoat seemed to engulf her tiny frame. Her hair was the longest he'd ever seen it and seemed to hang dull and matte around her shoulders. Her skin was pale and gaunt, her cheeks wan and hollow.

And she was without a doubt the most lovely thing he'd ever laid his eyes upon in his entire existence.

 _Deadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppies,_ screamed his frantic mind.

He wanted to close the distance between them. He needed to be near enough to touch her. The few feet that separated them may as well have been an ocean.

"Buffy." he whispered her name like a prayer.

He knew what would come next. It was one of their rituals. She would exhale his name like it was some kind of revelation. It was their stock standard greeting for each other.

But then she looked up at him and their eyes finally met. What he saw there was nothing he had ever seen before on the face of his beloved. She looked haunted, broken and lost. Nothing of her uniquely Buffy spunk or spirit lingered in her green eyes, which were now a dull shade of grey.

"You didn't visit." she said, her voice low and emotionless.

He knitted his brows together in confusion. His emotions were already haywire just from finding out she was alive, and her cryptic words were sending his mind into a spiral.

"No calls. No letters. No emails. Nothing the entire summer." she continued, spitting her words like vitriol. "How could you?"

"Buffy," he spluttered helplessly. "I don't understand. You were..."

He trailed off, unable to say the word that somehow stuck on a lump in his throat. Even though Buffy was standing in front of him, very much alive, he still couldn't admit out loud that it hadn't always been that way.

A short, mirthless laugh bubbled at her lips. "You know, being a slayer, I always thought a lot about what would happen when I eventually bit the big one. After Mom died I worried about it even more. I'd lie awake at night stressing. And you know what comforted me?"

The steely calmness in her voice was like ice to Angel's heart. He was close to tears again, just standing in the truck stop parking lot and watching her mouth move.

"What, Sweetheart? What comforted you?" he asked.

"The knowledge that you and Giles would take care of her." she replied without hesitation. "Be there for her. Treat her like family. Only you didn't do that Angel, did you?"

Oh.

Oh no.

She was talking about Dawn, he realized. He hadn't visited Dawn since Buffy's funeral. Dawn was the sister Buffy loved so much she had willingly died in her place. The sister who was still just a child, and had lost her entire family in a matter of months. And now Buffy believed Angel had turned his back on her.

"Oh God, Buffy." he said, no longer able to control himself as a tear slipped down his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Too late." she seethed.

The idea that he had let Buffy down so terribly made the world seemingly tilt on its axis and suddenly Angel felt like he couldn't stand upright anymore. He dropped to a crouch on the gravel, his aching head cradled in his hands.

"I needed time, that's all." he said, trying to make sense of the muddled explanation he knew existed somewhere in the recesses of his reeling mind. "After you…left us…I was at the lowest point I'd ever been in my entire existence. Lower then you can ever imagine. I was the definition of a living corpse. It was only your voice in my head that kept me alive at all. The words you told me up on Kingman's Bluff before the snow fell."

"Strong is fighting. It's hard. And it's painful. And it's every day. It's what we have to do." Buffy's quiet voice surprised him, breaking him from his despaired rambling.

He nodded, showing her that she'd correctly guessed the words he had been alluding to.

"I knew I needed to find a way back to strong. Back to fighting. For you. So I went to a Tibetan monastery and learned how to go on living with the hole you left in my soul. Even after I returned to LA, I still wasn't capable of seeing Dawn. There's so much of you in her, Buffy, and I just couldn't face her yet. But I swear to you as soon as I felt strong enough I would have come back for her. I would have checked up on her every week, made sure she was safe, paid for her to go to college, bought her a pony…"

Suddenly Buffy laughed and Angel abruptly broke his words off. He raised his head from his hands to look up at her. She was still so distant looking, with her arms wrapped tightly around her body almost as if she was trying to curl into herself to keep away from him. But the anger was gone from her.

"I don't really think the backyard of our house has enough room for a pony to graze."

He stood and studied her completely, reading what little emotion he could from the void of her face. What he could see there was acceptance. She had seemingly accepted his explanation about Dawn and was satisfied. She knew he hadn't really let her down as badly as she'd originally thought. He felt like time folded in on itself and the slate was wiped clean. Their reunion could start anew.

"Buffy." he said again, caressing her name like a delicate flower.

She hesitated, fear flashed across her face, and then she let go of the breath she was holding. She spoke so softly if he wasn't a vampire he wouldn't have heard her. But he was a vampire. And he had heard her. And nothing else mattered.

"Angel."

And just like that he was whole again.

In an instant he cut the distance between them. His large arms encircled her tiny body, pulling her to him. He lifted her off the ground, burying his face in the hollow of her neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her. Finally touching her, he let himself believe.

She was back. She had really returned to the mortal plane. She was alive. His soul sang with delight and the happiness bubbled inside him, threatening to overspill.

 _1753\. Kathy's eyes were chocolate brown and brimming with innocence. Remember the way they came over all glassy after she lay dead on the floor?_ Came the whispered voice in his mind, successfully snapping his happiness back to an acceptable level.

After a few more moments of tight embrace, Angel noticed that although Buffy was not resisting she had made no move to return his affection. In fact, her arms hung limply by her side and her face was still mostly blank.

Slowly he set her feet back on the ground, though he kept a hold on both her elbows, still unwilling and unable to physically let her go just yet. He dropped his head toward hers, getting a clearer look at her eyes. There was a dark, haunted look in them that quietly scared him. Memories of his time in hell replaced his lingering thoughts of happiness and Kathy.

"Talk to me Buffy. Tell me what you've been though." he pleaded.

"I…I can't." she mumbled.

She tried to step away from him, but he maintained his hold on her arms and she didn't fight to free herself. She seemed conflicted by her need to be both as close to him and as far away as possible.

"It's me, Buffy. It's Angel. You can tell me. I'll understand."

"No. You won't." she breathed darkly. "Not this."

"Oh God Buffy, what did they to you?" he gasped.

"They pulled me out."

He shook his head imperceptibly as he realized they were talking about two different things. He was asking her about her time in the hell dimension, but she was referring to Willow and her friends saving her. Completely unsure of how to react to her, he simply followed the direction in which she steered the conversation.

"I know they did Sweetheart." he said soothingly. "I'm so glad they did."

"They ruined everything…" she muttered, pushing the heels of her palms into her eye sockets.

Before he could process the words she had spoken, she stood on her tiptoes and crushed her mouth to his.

He was so shocked to have Buffy's lips on his again that his movements at that point were nothing more than muscle memory. His arms snaked around her back, pulling her flush against his chest. His cool tongue pushed its way into her hot mouth. Nothing warmed his ice cold body like she did. Every nerve ending in his entire body was on fire.

 _1775\. That school in Vienna. The entire classroom of children, all drained of their blood and then propped back up in their chairs like little corpse dolls for their parents to find._ His mind screamed at him, and he felt the demon inside wrestling for control as his happiness skyrocketed.

A tiny Buffy hand crept underneath the fabric of his shirt, clawing urgently at his skin. It sent a rush of electrified tingles up and down his spine.

 _1860\. Drusilla's terrified howling as she fled from him, her family slaughtered right in front of her eyes._

Angel started to come over lightheaded and he searched desperately for another heinous memory to calm his racing mind. But he was so distracted by the ministration of Buffy's fingers that he couldn't think straight anymore.

He gasped and pulled back away from her, using all his strength to push her backward at the same time. Immediately she came for him again, and it took every ounce of control he had within himself to shove her away once more. This time he held her at arm's length, a death-like grip on her biceps to prevent her from approaching a third time.

"Buffy, stop." he sucked in several unnecessary breaths. "You have to stop. I'm so happy. You have to stop."

She studied him silently, that dark and haunted look ever-present in her eyes. "I need you. Please, I need you. Don't deny me this."

He screwed his eyes painfully shut and shook his head in anguish. He knew he was on the precipice, and he knew that she knew it too. He had no idea why she would want to put him through such torment. She had to have known what seeing her again would do to his emotions.

"Please, Buffy." he begged her. "I'm happy. I'm too happy. This is dangerous. You can't. We can't."

Suddenly her mood changed again. She angrily shoved his hands off her arms and lashed out with a closed fist that hit him squarely in the jaw. He reeled back from the blow, but managed to stay on his feet.

"Happy?" she screamed, her voice rising almost an entire octave. "Happy? You're happy?"

"Buffy, seeing you alive and safe is so treacherously close to pure happiness for me." he spoke calmly and raised the palms of his hands in an act of submission. "Don't you know?"

"Want me to change that for you?" she continued to rage, her eyes now clouding over with hatred and disdain.

"You can't." Angel said. "Nothing could change that for me tonight."

The smirk that spread across her lips was sadistic; foreign on a face that usually held such ethereal beauty.

"I was in heaven." she said, her soft voice flowing from her mouth like dry ice.

Angel blinked several times and shook his head to try and clear his mind. He suspected he hadn't heard her correctly, or possibly he hadn't understood the intention of her words.

"You…I…what?" he spluttered.

"I was in heaven." she repeated, this time loud and determined. "I was warm, and safe and surrounded by love. I wasn't a slayer anymore. I was free. My fight was over and I was free."

Angel reached out to grab her but she deftly sidestepped his hand.

"No." he gasped.

But then, it was so obvious. Why would someone as good and pure as Buffy ever spend a second in hell? Why would the greatest slayer in history, who had saved the world more than once, languish in an eternity of fire and brimstone? She had laid her life down for her sister, despite knowing the truth that the girl was nothing more than a bundle of energy and a myriad of planted memories. Why would such a sacrifice result in anything except entrance to heaven?

And then Buffy opened her mouth again, and out spilled her pièce de résistance.

"One second I'm in paradise, and the next I'm hot and confused and gasping stale air in the pitch black darkness."

In an instant Angel knew exactly what she was referring to and he took the words like a sucker punch to the gut. His drew his right hand up to his mouth to try and conceal his shock and dismay, but did a very poor job of it.

There was just no way Willow would have left her best friend in all the world to claw out of her own grave. There was just no way.

It had been centuries since he'd endured the act of digging himself out of his grave, but he still remembered the event as one of unspeakable horror. And yet her experience must have been so much worse, because he hadn't needed to breathe on the way up. Nor had he been alone – Darla had been waiting for him.

"How long does the damn dirt stay embedded under your fingernails?" she jeered. "Because I scrub them and I scrub them yet my hands still stink like the earth I dug through that night."

Angel said nothing, merely shook his head, too dazed to respond.

"How long will I see the inside of my own coffin every time I close my eyes? How long will I dream about just lying there in the darkness until the air runs out and I can return to heaven again?" she implored.

"Buffy," he said, his voice coming out as more of a strangled sob. "I didn't know."

"Still feeling happy, Angel?" she sneered. "Still at risk of letting Angelus come out to play? Because maybe it wouldn't be so bad to go a few rounds with him right now. I could use the distraction."

"Buffy…"

She frantically shook her head, as if trying to chase demons from her own mind. Her aggression deflated in front of him.

"Sorry." she sighed, running her hands through her hair in an act of defeat. "Actually I guess I should be thanking you. I've been numb ever since I came back. I knew you'd be able to make me feel something. Hadn't banked on it being anger, but at least it's something…"

Everything suddenly made sense to him. The haunted look in her eyes, the trauma, the anger and most of all the kiss. Of course he would be the one to make her feel again. But anger wasn't what he wanted for her. It wasn't what she deserved to be reduced to. His beloved Buffy was standing in front of him and she was broken, but he knew he could fix her.

His mind drifted back to the night of her seventeenth birthday. The night they had given themselves completely to each other. The night they had melded into each other, their souls entwining with their bodies as they made love. He knew it was the closest he would ever get to heaven.

Yet Buffy had been there. Truly, honestly, been there. And he knew she longed to return; could read it plainly on her face. He couldn't give her that, couldn't send her back, but he could get her damn close.

Without another word Angel grabbed her hand and dragged her capriciously back to the Plymouth. He could hear her unsure footfall on the gravel behind him but she dutifully followed. He opened the passenger door and pushed her onto the shiny leather of the back seat. He hesitated only a moment before following her, closing the door behind him and covering her tiny body with his own.

Instantaneously her mouth found his in the dark enclave of the car and Angel found himself fleetingly thankful that he hadn't wasted time putting the top down before he left the Hyperion, such had been his haste to meet her.

She moaned underneath him, one hand raking through his hair and the other tucked under his shirt on the small of his back. She drew a leg up between his, mewling as he moved his lips from her mouth down to her jawline and then the hollow of her throat. Then, swallowing down his common sense and better judgement, Angel reached for the band of her jeans and slipped a hand inside.

 _1890\. The sweet Russian grandmother who Spike held down and forced to watch as the group drained her large family of children and grandchildren._

 _1998\. The exhilaration of posing Jenny Calendar's dead body in the watcher's bed, before setting up a romantic scene for Giles to find._

Buffy moaned again, rocking her hips against him. He looked down at her, her eyes firmly closed and her mouth slightly open as she let go of her pain and fought to find a path back to heaven. He kissed her again, wondering if he could taste heaven on her lips, but knowing he didn't deserve it even if he could.

 _1998\. The bliss of perching on the windowsill and watching Buffy sleep at night, clutching her Claddagh ring and silently whispering his name as the devastation rolled off her in waves._

 _1999\. The look on Buffy's face as he told her their relationship was a freak show and he didn't want to be with her._

 _2000\. The big, fat tears rolling down Buffy's face as she sobbed that they didn't have enough time, and she would never forget, never forget, never forget._

She gasped and shifted suddenly, and he knew she was getting close to release. He sucked in a sharp intake of air he didn't need and tried to refocus his efforts to stay in control of his own emotions, even as he unlocked hers. Digging deep, he found new thoughts even more horrifying than his most savage memories.

 _Buffy's soul screaming in pain as she was unexpectedly ripped from heaven._

 _Buffy alive and thumping frantically on the lid of her coffin as she slowly suffocated._

 _Buffy choking and inhaling the dirt as she clawed her way to the surface._

 _Buffy's hands, torn and bloody, with nobody around to tend to them._

With his human face still firmly in place, Angel bent his head to the crook of her neck and clamped his blunt teeth down onto the scar he'd left there years earlier. Not hard enough to break the skin or inflict any real pain, but enough to awaken the bond he had created when he'd bitten her.

It was all she needed to push her over the edge. She cried out in bliss and he pulled back just in time to watch the peace and happiness wash over her face for a few brief moments, as she climbed as close to heaven as she would ever manage on the mortal plane.

Seconds later it was over. Her eyes snapped open to look at him, but the haunted look had been replaced by despair. Her face crumpled in anguish and she pushed him away.

Angel scampered upright and molded his body against the side of the car, trying to give Buffy as much space as possible. She snapped up to a seated position beside him, clawing her hands at her throat and chest as the emotions overwhelmed her.

"It's not enough. I want it back. I want more." she cried.

Then she burst into tears, and it was like watching flood gates open for the first time. The sorrow engulfed her completely and she gave herself over to the misery.

"It's okay. I'm here." he murmured, reaching a hand tentatively toward her.

She shook with hysterical sobs as she threw herself into his arms. He held her tightly against his chest, and she hid her face in her hands and cried like the world depended on it. Which, quite likely it did.

Eventually she fell into a deep and restful sleep. Angel suspected that slumber had been eluding her since her return, so he simply kept her cradled in his lap and methodically stroked her hair as she softly snored.

Three hours later, Buffy awoke with a start and her hands shot out above her head, slapping chaotically at the roof of the car. Angel winced as he realized the enclosed space in the back of the Plymouth had caused her to recall the moment she woke inside her coffin.

"It's okay Buffy." he said, snatching her tiny hands and holding them in his own. "You're safe."

Hearing his words, her mind seemed to snap back into focus and she remembered where she was. She smiled up at him and reached up to cup his cheek. For a long moment, they said nothing, simply sat staring at each other and losing themselves in each other's eyes.

 _Are you still my girl?_

 _Always._

"I should go." she said, suddenly turning away from him and straightening her clothes. "I need to get home before Dawn gets up."

He didn't want to let her go. Wanted to keep her with him, if not forever then just for a few more days. A few more weeks. A few more months. A few more years. Okay, so yes he wanted to keep her forever.

Yet even as he thought the words, he knew that just wasn't a possibility. There was too much separating them at this juncture of their lives. So much responsibility pulling them in different directions, as much as he hated to admit it.

But he also knew that Buffy had a long way to go in her emotional recovery, and he worried that she wouldn't recover productively if left to her own devices.

"Buffy when you get home I want you to talk to Giles or Willow, okay?" he urged her gently. "You need to talk about your experience and get it all out in the open or the darkness will consume you."

She shook her head fiercely. "No Angel. They can't know the truth. They can never know. It will hurt them. I can't hurt them."

"Buffy you need to talk to someone, okay? If not Willow or Giles then Xander. If not Xander then Anya or Tara. Anyone. Okay? Just talk to someone." he said insistently.

She softly nodded her acquiescence as she leaned around him to open the door and step out onto the asphalt, buttoning her pants as she went. He followed her out, leaning nervously on the side of the car.

"I'll try." she promised. "I'll talk to someone."

God, he loved her. He wanted nothing more than to stay with her. But he could smell the sunrise not far away and he knew he needed to make a move sooner rather than later.

"Call me if you need me." he said. "I mean it. Day or night."

She nodded again, and smiled up at him sadly. He knew she was as reluctant to leave as he was. She stood on her toes and planted her hands determinedly on his shoulders, before leaning up to place a firm kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, my Angel." she whispered against his ear. "Thank you for making me feel."

It wasn't until he was half way home, the taste of Buffy lingering sweetly on his tongue, that he realized she didn't have a drivers license and he had no idea how she'd reached the meeting point at all. He had most likely left her there to catch the bus home, and he wasn't sure what kind of terrible person that made him. Or maybe the real problem was that he wasn't a person at all.

It wasn't until he was pulling the Plymouth into the Hyperion hotel that it occurred to him their intense reunion had in fact taken place in the dark parking lot of a roadside diner. He hadn't even taken her inside and bought her a coffee. He truly was the scum of the Earth.

When he slipped inside the building, he was surprised to see Cordelia sitting on the steps in the lobby. It was clear she had been worried about him, and was waiting for him to return home.

"You look like hell." she gasped, standing to face him as he crossed the room.

"No." he said darkly. "I look like heaven."

He brushed past her and climbed the stairs to his bedroom, allowing himself to sink into a deep and powerful brood.

He didn't surface for three days.


End file.
